


Gotham Chronicles

by deawrites



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Adult Content, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Blood and Violence, Drinking, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-29
Updated: 2018-01-29
Packaged: 2019-03-10 22:43:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13511277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deawrites/pseuds/deawrites
Summary: Harvey's a writer for the Gotham Chronicle's Crime Beat and Jim's a rookie cop new to the GCPD.





	Gotham Chronicles

**Author's Note:**

> All comments, questions, suggestions, kudos and criticisms welcome.
> 
> For my wife who listened to me babble about my Guys.

Ever since he had learned the alphabet as a toddler and could hold a crayon, all Harvey Bullock wanted to do was write. He learned to read at an early age and started asking questions just as young. His mother was convinced he was going to be a writer, encouraged him to take journalism in middle school and get on the school paper. Before Harvey knew it, he was publishing in those, as well as community papers, church bulletins, and writing the annual Bullock Christmas letter. By the time he was in high school he was not only the head reporter on the student newspaper, he was submitting articles to magazines. Every time he was published he got two copies for his mother; one for her scrapbook and one for her to show off to anyone she could rope into noticing. At Gotham University he absorbed and excelled at all his Literature, English, and Journalism classes, though all other courses suffered due to his disinterest in them. By the time he had graduated and gone half way through the undergraduate program; he had written three novels, one of which was a biography on his Mom’s battle with breast cancer. When she died he dropped out of undergrad school, freelanced for a while and finally landed himself a job on the Gotham Gazette. When a heated difference of opinion with the editor ended in Harvey throwing a punch, he was fired. He wrote web articles freelance and hated it; until he was shown mercy by being offered a position at the Gotham Chronicle; the premier newspaper of Gotham City.

 

Harvey uncapped the bottle of Pepto-Bismol he kept at his desk and held it out. A few seconds later the Editor of the Chronicle bellowed for him as he approached at a fast walk. He snagged the bottle from Harvey, took a swig of the pink gook and handed it back. Harvey took a small sip and re-capped the medication and looked at his boss. “You rang mine Fuher?”

 

“Cut the crap, Bullock.” Davis Turnwell fussed with a snarl, hands on his hips. “You were supposed to do that editorial piece on the Mayor to make him look good. I just read five thousand words of shit on a shingle. Mind explaining to me why you can’t follow simple directions when I give them to you?”

 

Smug, Harvey smirked up at Turnwell. “I thought this paper was about printing the truth, not some glammed up image of a piece of shit mayor.”

 

Turnwell groaned at Harvey. “Truth? The game isn’t about that anymore, it’s about beating all these millennial fucks to the web with the event! The days of integrity in journalism are over, and the sooner you get that through your thick, Irish skull and do what you’re told, the better chance you’ll have of keeping your job!” Turnwell took the rolled-up pieces of paper he had in his hand and threw them against Harvey’s chest. “Now write the piece I told you too or clear out your desk. I got a hundred and one twenty-two-year-old idiots in line that could do your job.” Harvey looked at the printed-out copy of his editorial and frowned. “Oh, and another thing; until further notice you’re on the crime beat. Vale is too busy for that trite anymore.”

 

“Aw, come on Turney. Don’t do that to me.”

 

“Too late.” Turnwell groused pivoting back around to return to his office. He had berated Harvey publicly to put the fear of god into the rest of his employees and the ploy worked. Everyone at least pretended to be incredibly busy now. “What’s done is done. Now get the fuck back to work!”

 

Angrily Harvey hit the papers against his desk top and cursed sharply. He ran a hand back through his thick, red hair, with gray showing near the temples. He was fifty-two-years of age and far too old to be on crime watch. It was a young man’s game with the late hours, dubious meets with talkative Uniforms and Detectives, townhall and Police Union meetings. Vicki Vale was pretty, young and could use her cleavage to get what she wanted in a pinch. All Harvey had was several extra pounds around his middle from a mostly sedentary lifestyle, a bad back and occasional carpel tunnel in his left wrist. He didn’t have much to offer in the way of manipulating information out of potential sources in an entertaining way, past a taste for good whiskey. That was expensive, so he mostly drank cheap and Cops usually bought their own liquor. It was going to be a tough assignment that felt like he was taking a leap backwards because he was. Not for the first time that day Harvey wondered if he should retire from the journalism game and become a novel writer instead. There were worse things he could do with his time; like work the crime beat in Gotham.

 

That evening when Harvey returned home from work he had a bottle of whiskey fresh from the liquor store and some Indian takeaway for his dinner. He entered the run-down tenement building in The Narrows slum where he grew up. He walked up the four flights of stairs to his apartment because the elevator was out of service again. Unlocking the door, he switched on a light and stated in a sing song tone, “Honey! I’m home.” He was met by silence and shrugged. “Guess you’re out.”  Harvey went to the kitchen and turned on another light there and placed his purchase upon the counter top. Seconds later a melon color, long haired cat appeared at his feet, running figure eights around his legs. “There you are Hon.” He reached down and petted the cat, which immediately began to purr. “Right on cue for the vittles but not the tenders huh?” He teased of his affections and the cat’s dinner.  Harvey frowned as he went to the cat’s empty food dish and picked it up. It was in the space between the wall and the refrigerator, where Harvey would have stored his broom and mop is he had owned them.

 

Harvey set about opening a can of cat food and mashing it out with a fork into the bowl. All the while Honey was trilling at him and making figure eights around his ankles. He nearly lost his balance when he turned abruptly to go put her bowl back but steadied himself by use of the counter. He replaced her bowl and she immediately began to eat. “Don’t say I never gave ya’ nothing.” Harvey mused returning to the counter and his own dinner. He would tell people the only reason he owned a cat was because all writers were supposed to have them; the good ones anyway; and Harvey supposed he kept her because he could say, ‘Honey I’m home’ every time he walked through his front door. He would not admit that he found her as a kitten on a children’s playground, drenched, half-starved and with a wound that required stiches on her side. God knows whom had abused her, but they had, as her tail was broken in three places. As a result, it never healed straight and was crooked.  Harvey enjoyed her company all the same and she seemed to even like him on days when her cat schedule permitted such demonstrations of gratitude.

 

Harvey was twice divorced and convinced he would never make it a third time down the aisle. It took far too much out of his heart every time the marriage ended. The first time he was wed he was just starting college and Pamela was his high school sweetheart. Too young to make any sort of romantic relationship last past a couple of years, the two separated on good terms, all be it Harvey was heartbroken for a while. His next wife, Doreen; was an aggressive, ambitious, professional woman who needed a husband to check off her to do list. Harvey found her company nice enough, but their relationship in the end was built solely upon sexual gratification and not love. That divorce had left Harvey bitter and put him off marriage altogether. He supposed that some day if he met the right woman that could be convinced to try a third time, but he doubted there would be many takers now that he was well into middle age.  If Harvey was lonely and craved feminine affections he merely paid for the company of one of Gotham’s many prostitutes. The transactions were short, to the point and everyone left a little happier than when they arrived; at least in Harvey’s estimation they did.

 

Harvey watched the news while he ate, had a double shot of whiskey when he was done with the dishes, and put on a blues record while he sipped it. That accomplished he took out his laptop and charged it, while he looked at his personal E-mail account to clean it out any spam he found there. He answered a couple of inquires from a couple of his eight siblings about a family get together needing to be postponed because quote, ‘the kids were sick’ end quote. He was disappointed that there would be no meal gathering after church that Sunday, but the thought of contracting a cold didn’t sit well with him either. Harvey petted Honey while he surfed the web and worked a little on a book he had been writing for his own gratification, on a history of The Narrows and how it had become the slum of Gotham. Research was slow going as when he was at work the job was long hours and he had little time to write anything at appealed to him. Due to his reassignment the precious few hours he had to work on his history book were drastically cut back. Stupid Union meetings; seeking sources and chatting up drunk cops in bars. Harvey frowned and wondered yet again if he should quit journalism altogether.

 

Jim Gordon had gone from wearing a Military Uniform to a Police Uniform in what felt like record time. The ink from his honorable discharge was nearly dry by the time he was signing on the dotted line to join the GCP academy. He preformed there as he always had throughout his life, he worked hard, studied harder and excelled in all the physical tests the academy required of him. His end goal was to get out of uniform and a detective shield as quickly as possible. He knew that some guys worked for the better part of a decade attempting to achieve this, but Jim was confident that he was well on his way to the new shield. Never mind that he had only been on the job for ninety-days and in that time managed to alienate himself from everyone on the police force.

 

Not only was Jim an over achiever, but he was also a goody-two-shoes, a boy scout, a by the book individual. He had honor, integrity and believed in the due process of the law. He didn’t believe in letting things slide or taking short cuts. He was determined to do things the right way, even if that ended up being the hard way. Jim wasn’t interested in taking bribes, in fact his goal was to inspire others to turn away from the corruption that ran rampant in the department. His ultimate accomplishment would be to become police commissioner and make the Gotham City police the most trusted, and honorable civil servants in Gotham. Jim wanted people to be able to look to the department for help and receive it without reprisal from the cops themselves. He wanted them to have the protection they needed without having to pay for it beyond their taxes. Jim Gordon wanted to make Gotham a great place to live for law abiding citizens. As for the criminal element, he wanted the department to be feared not laughed at. With all his lofty intentions, Jim had worked out a trajectory to get him where he needed to go to implement such changes. It would take time, hard work, and a little bit of luck but it would be worth it in the end. If he lived long enough to realize his dreams that was.

 

‘The shooting was good’, was what Sargent Arnold Flass was saying; however, Jim and a few other Uniforms judged otherwise. “We get all our stories are straight and that’s the end of it.” Flass warned looking to each man’s eyes as they stood over the body of the latest Gotham City police shooting victim.

 

“This is a **child** , Flass.” Jim protested motioning to the fourteen-year-old’s corpse on the ground. “We can’t fabricate,”

 

Flass advanced quickly on Jim, seizing him by the front of his uniform shirt and knocking him back into the brick wall of the alleyway. Arnold Flass was a tall man; six-feet -seven- inches and had a broad, muscular, build. He might not be fast for a large man, but he was fast enough in this instance. He towered by a good foot over Jim’s five-foot-eight-inch frame, leaned into his face and hissed, “We can do _anything_ I fucking **tell** you to do Gordon. If you don’t want to find yourself dead in a fuckin’ back alley, I suggest you get with the program!” Flass pushed himself off Jim’s chest, causing the smaller male to lose his ability to breathe for a few seconds. Flass pointed a finger into Jim’s face. “Solidarity, Gordon. and write it up like I said.”

 

Jim glared at Flass and then straightened his uniform shirt. The situation was far from resolved as far as Jim was concerned. One of the other officers nudged him to get his attention focus. “Don’t do anything stupid you’ll regret, Gordon. Now’s not the time. Pick your battles in the war, man.” He pat Jim on the shoulder and moved away. Flass was tightening the circle of cops and reciting the version of the story that he wanted to be placed in all the incident reports. Only when that was complete did they allow Jim to go to the squad car and call it in, requesting a supervisor and detective on scene. He didn’t go alone, the officer that had spoken to him; Felix Madock; followed him at Flass’ direction. Jim rested his wrists a little upon the police cruiser and shook his head fuming at his momentary helplessness. Once more Madock tapped him and motioned to the dilapidated Diplomat that pulled up across the street; illegally double parking. “There’s other ways, Gordon.”

 

Jim looked from the car to Madock. “What do you mean?” The driver got out of the car and Madock smirked.

 

“The Press. Everyone needs to look good for the papers, right?” Madock nudged Jim once more. “Give me one of your business cards.”

 

“Why?”

 

“Do it Gordon.” Madock took the proffered card and crossed the street. He felt Jim’s gaze upon him as he approached the reporter. “Who the hell are you?” He challenged for Jim and Flass’ benefit; he and the rest of the cops were coming out of the alley.

 

“Harvey Bullock. Gotham Chronicle, who the fuck’re _you_?”

 

“The guy who’s gonna tell you, that you can’t be here right now. Step back over there to the curb.” Madock put out an arm, hand touching Harvey’s chest, and dropped his voice to nearly a whisper. “Take the card.” He directed. “This scene’s hinky.”

 

Harvey snatched the card out of Madock’s hand making a grand gesture by opening his arms wide. “Aw, c’mon, Officer. I’m just trying to do my job too. One quote; tell me what happened.”

 

“Beat it, or next time have send out Vale.” Madock retorted pointing to the curb. “All the way back now!”

 

Mock grumbling Harvey obeyed dropping his eyes to the card in his hand. “Jim Gordon huh?” He mused to himself. “You and I have a date.” He pocketed the card as another police unit arrived, this one an unmarked car with siren blaring and dash lights flashing. It was going to be a long evening.

 

An hour later and Jim’s back molars were grinding together, his jaw set hard as he waited for the detective’s questioning to be over. He gave the statement Flass ordered them too and had filled out the incident report; by hand; furious with himself therefor not matching his statement to the other. The written version had variances of the truth, while his verbal recital had no base of reality. Flass had ordered him what to say, but he couldn’t control what Jim wrote; nor would he allow him too. If the detective was vigilant he would note the discrepancy and investigate further; if he wasn’t, then Jim would have to mark down another failure of the department that needed fixing. He had been dismissed and was brooding, when he climbed back into his police cruiser he struck the dashboard hard and cursed.

 

At the vibrating of his cell phone he took it out of his shirt pocket and answered sharply, “Officer Gordon.”

 

“There he is.” Harvey stated pen in hand. “This is Harvey Bullock, the Chronicle; remember me from like, an hour ago?”

 

“No.” Jim stated truthfully. “I don’t.”

 

Harvey’s brow furrowed. “You gave me your card. Can you not talk safely right now or something? Answer yes or no.”

 

The situation dawning on Jim he said. “Officer Madock gave you my card. And yeah, I can talk but not now. Can I meet you somewhere after my shift? It ends at three a.m.”

 

“Got ya working swing shift huh?” Harvey commiserated internally cursing the early hour for the meet. He would get Turnwell to place him back on a decent desk after the man cooled down. “Know where Doris’ Diner is?”

 

“Yes actually.”

 

“We’ll meet there by three thirty.”

 

“I’ll see you then. Harvey was it?” Harvey answered affirmatively, and Jim noted that Madock was on his way to his own cruiser nearby. “Until then? Take care.”

 

Harvey was in the middle of saying, ‘you too’ when the call severed. He would have to wait another five hours until he could sit with Jim Gordon and hopefully have an inside scoop that his competitors wouldn’t. He made his way home and set his bedside alarm, taking a nap prior to his meet. Honey curled up behind his knees to sleep. Thus, was his life until a few hours later when he was awoken from a dream and took several minutes to orient himself and just why he was awake in the middle of the night.  Yes; the crime desk. Officer Jim Gordon; their clandestine meeting at the diner. Harvey groaned and wished he was a decade younger.

 

Wanting to beat Jim to the diner, Harvey arrived early to order some coffee, breakfast food, and settle in. He was just taking his notepad out when the diner door opened. The kid, had to have been in his early twenties Harvey decided. He was blond, blue eyed and if he was honest with himself; stunningly gorgeous. It had been sometime since Harvey had felt his loins stir for anyone that wasn’t a female, but this kid was a game changer. Harvey swallowed and watched the youngster look around before his gaze settled on Harvey. At first, they widened then went back to normal, as he approached the booth.

 

“Are you Harvey?”

 

Harvey nodded and motioned to the bench seat across from him. “Have a seat. Officer Gordon.”

 

“Jim.” The kid requested with a slight smile. “Please.” Harvey nodded and was about to begin asking questions when the waitress returned to their table to take Jim’s order. He asked for coffee a bowl of oatmeal. The waitress returned with both in a very short amount of time, but by then the two men had begun their conversation.

 

“So, the shooting tonight? Heard it was a teenager.”

 

Jim nodded. “This has to be off the record.”

 

Harvey’s lip twitched. “Why’s that?”

 

“Because it was a bad shooting and the police are lying to the public.”

 

Harvey sat back in the booth and placed his right arm along the top ridge of the seat. “Wait, let me get this straight. You, who are a cop; want to implicate another cop for murder and use deception in the media?” Jim nodded, was about to speak and Harvey held up his left hand to silence him. It was then that Jim’s order was dropped off and once they were alone Harvey asked, “ _Why_?”

 

“Because it’s the right thing to do. Officer Flass murdered that child and stood there and expected the rest of us to cover it up.” Jim shook his head. “A _child_. Making a mistake is one thing, but with absolute forethought and malice that’s inexcusable regardless if you’re a police officer or not.”

 

Harvey burst out laughing. The sound sharp and clear, that it garnered the attention of the waitress, cook, and two other diners in the restaurant. His laughter faded when he realized that Jim was glaring at him impatiently from across the table surface. “Okay, you’re **serious**?” Harvey questioned lowering his arm from the top of the booth seat. “Look Jimmy,”

 

“ _Jim_.” Jim insisted coldly. “I don’t see how a child’s death is something to laugh about, if you can’t take this seriously,”

 

“No, no.” Harvey assured holding up placating palms. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t laughing at the kid dying.” Harvey glanced down at his open notebook and before meeting Jim’s gaze once more. “Leroy Evans from what I understand was a straight A student; not that grades matter much anymore.” Harvey’s expression shifted from sympathetic to interested. He lowered his hands onto the table top, wrists resting on the edge of the surface. “It’s just that this is Gotham; where the rules are played fast and loose by the cops. This isn’t my first-time riding in the crime beat rodeo; and the fact that I’m talking to probably the only honest cop in the City? That tickles me right in the short and curlies.” Harvey sat back a little and took a pen out of the pocket of his jacket which was on the bench seat along with his fedora. “So, let me ask you this Gordon. What do you get out of this besides jamming up your colleague,” Harvey briefly glanced at his notebook. “Sgt. Arnold Flass?”

 

Jim blinked, his impossibly blue eyes with gray flex regarding Harvey in disbelief. “The truth is known, and a dirty cop gets punished. It’s about doing the right thing by everyone.”

 

“Except Flass of course.”

 

Jim’s cheek twitched as his teeth ground slightly. “Especially Flass. He deserves to go to prison for murder.”

 

“Among other things I’m sure. Look Jim, I’m just trying to ascertain if there’s more to your beef with him, like something personal.”

 

Jim’s brow furrowed, and his gaze narrowed. “I take murder of a child extremely personal. If you’re asking if I’m trying to get back at him for some perceived slight, then no. I’m not. All I want is for the public to know the truth about the shooting, so the system can do its job.”

 

Harvey nodded. “So, walk me through it.” He urged. For the next half hour Jim described the shooting and the circumstances leading up to and following it. Harvey was shaking his head as they took a break for Jim to eat a little of his oatmeal and for Harvey to catch up on his notes. “Are you certain this has to be off the record?” Harvey tested softly. “If you come forward with a name it’ll mean a lot more than just some random blind source.”

 

Jim swallowed a sip of his coffee. The waitress came by and topped up their mugs, warming the coffee already in them. She left again, and Jim’s expression turned sympathetic. “I want to stand on record, but,” Jim paused groping for words that would not come.

 

Harvey nodded understandingly and asked, “Whatever happened to wanting to do the right thing? If one of their own says this cop did something and I saw it, then it’s more difficult to sweep under the rug.”

 

“Unless they side with Flass. He’s a sergeant and I’m only an officer. He has tenure, he has clout, he’s well liked in the department. And who am I?”

 

Harvey pointed at Jim’s chest across the table and answered, “You’re the guy who stood up and said, ‘no more’. The one that Leroy Evans’ parents can thank for shining the light of truth onto their son’s death.”

 

Jim rubbed his forehead with a hand and closed his eyes for a few seconds of thought. Harvey could see how long and blond his eyelashes were; they were beautiful and for a moment he was mesmerized by them. All too soon, Jim opened his eyes and regarded Harvey. “The largest issue I see with coming forward without anonymity, is that my ass is on the line with the rest of the force. When I make the call for back up is anyone going to respond?”

 

“That is a problem, Jim.” Harvey agreed softly. “And yeah, I have the easy job of blowing the lid off this shooting and you have to live out there in the front lines but,” He paused and laced his fingers together upon the table surface, his gaze searching Jim’s handsome features. “it’s the right thing to do.”

 

Jim glanced away for a few seconds and nodded. He turned back to Harvey, decision made and said, “Alright. Let’s do it. That way my incident report will match what I’ve said to the press.”

 

“Now you’re talking.” Harvey praised reaching across the table and patting Jim on the shoulder. The younger male beamed at the praise and Harvey sat back down on the bench seat. “Let’s send this Flass asshole to jail.”

 

Harvey worked quickly on the article and had it submitted to Turnwell in time for printing. Turnwell looked over the mock up front page and then up at Harvey. “Well this is going to piss off a few people.” He nodded in approval. “So, this Gordon kid? If he survives the day let’s hope you and him can make beautiful headlines together. Vale never got this lucky her first time out at the desk. I’m impressed Bullock.”

 

“Thank you,” Harvey reached out and took the mock up from his boss and turned it to face him. “Let us not forget the poor, unfortunate Leroy Evans. He lost his life, so we could have this headline.”

 

“Don’t’ get sentimental on me, Bullock.” Tunwell groused. “Go home, get showered, get some sleep and get here by afternoon. We’ll see if this Gordon has an obit entry by tonight.”

 

Harvey put the mock up back down upon Turnwell’s desk and felt his gut clench a little bit at the thought. Despite everything Jim had been willing to risk doing the right thing; and Harvey took some responsibility manipulating him into doing it. Gotham wanted heroes, but in the end, she never needed them, and the enterprise would end bloody for said hero. Harvey didn’t want to see that happen to Jim. Not because of his coming forward and Harvey naming him on the front page of the Gotham Chronicle.

 

Jim didn’t even have to report to his boss after roll call, he was merely walked to the Captain’s office with him. The Captain; Edger Yammus; threw his copy of the Gotham Chronicle down upon the desk facing Jim and then placed a copy of the Gotham Gazette beside it. “Do you care to tell me, what the fucking _difference_ is with these two editions?”

 

Jim swallowed. “The Gazette doesn’t have Flass’ name in the headline.”

 

“That’s right.” Yammus looked at Jim’s boss, Williams. “See? The boy has a brain after all.” He looked back to Jim. “Could you please now tell me, WHAT THE FUCK YOU WERE THINKING?” Captain Yammus’ voice dropped from a bellow to scolding tone. “Do you have any idea what kind of shit storm this is causing us Gordon? I have four officers that have the exact same account of what happened last night and one that’s different, and WHO’S GONE TO THE GODAMNED PRESS!” Yammus picked up the Chronicle and threw it directly at Jim’s face. Jim; who was standing at attention; blinked and closed his eyes before the paper hit him, allowing it to fall harmlessly to the floor. Yammus wasn’t done yelling by a long shot. “And now, to make matters worse the Commissioner’s on my ass about this because; apparently; a uniformed officer bucking the system is A FUCKING BIG PROBLEM!” Yammus balled his fists and used them to push off the desk as he leaned toward Jim. “Flass is one of my best officers, and until he gets clear of this, you’re suspended! You’re lucky I can’t fire you right now but mark this Gordon; No pay the first week, and I don’t want to see your face in this office, ever THE FUCK AGAIN!!” Yammus sat down and addressed Williams. “Get this piece of shit outta my sight!

 

Williams exited with Jim right behind him. When they got downstairs back into the bullpen and away from the Captain’s door, Williams turned to Jim. “Clean out your locker. You don’t want to leave anything of value here right now. Trust me.”

 

“Sir,”

 

“I don’t want to hear your voice Gordon.” Williams cut off in a huff. “You want to get yourself killed? Wait until you’re off the clock because I don’t want to waste a moment of my time on you. Got it? Now get the fuck outta here while you still can.” Williams then walked away, and Jim watched him for a couple of seconds and realized that several people were staring at him; a few detectives as well as several uniformed officers. Jim made his way quickly to the men’s locker room, head held high and gaze roaming. He knew he was in danger and wondered if he would make it out of the building without a few bruises. The moment he saw that the locker room was empty he knew he was screwed.

 

Jim set about removing extra uniforms from his locker and changed into his plain clothes, shoving the rest the athletic bag he had stored. He was about to leave when the door swung open and the three other cops from the previous night walked in. Even Madock didn’t look pleased and Jim knew he would find no help there.

 

“Done fucked up Gordon. Went to the press like a squealing little pussy. Think you jammed up Flass real good? Well I got news for you; he’s gonna walk. You’ll see. And when he does? You’re dead.” He stood in Jim’s personal space and poked him in the chest painfully.

 

Jim stood his ground. “Get out of my face Anders. I’m just trying to follow orders.”

 

“Orders?” sneered Anders looking back at Lupin and Madock for approval. “Who the fuck ordered you to lie, huh? Call the press and squeal like the fucking, dirty, little, pussy, bitch, pig you are?”

 

“Back away, Anders.” Jim warned taking a step backward from the man.

 

Lupin laughed. “He’s trying to get outta here before we teach him his lesson. Cops stick together, or they end up bleeding.”

 

“You want to bleed, Gordon? Cause it sure as hell looks like that to me.” Anders stated before launching himself at Jim. Jim tossed his bag at Lupin’s face to busy him while he met Anders head on. Soon enough Lupin and Madock were throwing punches too. The fight; though short lived; was bloody. Jim knocked Anders unconscious and sent Lupin spiraling into a row of lockers, then Madock got the upper hand and pinned Jim to the wall.

 

“You didn’t listen.” He spat, face close enough to Jim’s that he could feel the rush of air coming out of Madock’s nose. “I said pick your battles. This one? You can’t win.” He shut up as Jim rabbit punched him in the ribs and went down when he got a knee to the face. Jim picked up his clothes bag, wiped the blood off his mouth and exited the locker room. He was aware of the stares he acquired as he strode off in the direction of the exit. He was suspended and being punished for someone else’s sins. Yet would it matter? Would Flass end up in jail and there be justice for Leroy Evans? If there wasn’t, Jim had just tanked his career over the tragedy of a stranger.

 

Harvey wasn’t at work yet, he was sleeping yet had all his calls forwarded to his phone. When it rang and woke him up, he groaned and cursed Turnwell’s name. Was it a fact check issue or his writing? Harvey didn’t really care to know as he picked up the phone and answered with a gruff and sleep laden voice, “Bullock.”

 

“This is Jim.” Jim greeted quickly. “Well, I’m not fired yet, but I’m suspended. So far the other three officers involved are sticking to Flass’ account. I just thought you should know.”

 

“Aw Jim.” Harvey stated pushing himself to sit up and placing his feet upon the floor. “That, that sucks. I’m sorry, man.” Harvey ran a hand back through his hair. “Listen, if there’s anything I can do for you,”

 

“Fine. I’m asking now.” Jim interrupted predicting Harvey’s next platitude. “I just got thrown off the only job I’ve ever loved, and I don’t want to be alone. Can we get a late breakfast, or coffee or something? I just can’t face home yet.”

 

“The misses going to ask too many questions?”

 

“No.” Jim sneered. “There’s no misses. I, I don’t have anyone in my life like that.”

 

“Oh, sorry.” Harvey cleared his throat to steady it and make it less gravely. “Coffee would be great. Where should I meet you?”

 

“Are you at the office yet?”

 

“No, I’m coming in late because of last night.” Harvey rubbed some of the sleep from an eye. “Where are you?”

 

“In front of your office building.”

 

“Okay. Wait there and I’ll see you in about fifteen minutes. All right Jim?”

 

“Thanks Harvey. I appreciate it.”

 

“Hey, least I could do.” The very fucking least, but his heart was sincere, and he knew that Jim could hear it in his tone. “I’ll see you soon.” The call severed, and Harvey tossed the phone onto the bed beside him. “Jesus, fuck.” He cursed trying to use his fingers to comb his hair into some semblance of order. He rose from the bed a few seconds later and went to the bathroom. He would need to get a move on if he were going to keep to his time table. On the bed Honey mowed at him and began grooming her face. “Yeah, you said it sister.” Harvey teased through a yawn. Just what Jim expected of him he didn’t know, but he knew that he would try to help him.

 

Jim had his hands in the pockets of his hoodie when Harvey arrived nearly ten minutes late. “I was beginning to think you’d forgotten about me.”

 

“Never.” Harvey assured repositioning his fedora a little. “Just there was traffic and, well; I had to feed my cat.” He shrugged as if that explained everything and touched Jim’s arm. “Come on. There’s a coffee kiosk inside.” Jim nodded and followed. Harvey ordered them two medium coffees and a few donuts for himself. He offered one to Jim, who shook his head. They sat down in the lobby area of the building where there were chairs set up to do so. The sun was shinning through the windows on them and outside the gray morning was coloring up to a nice shade of blue-gray. At least it wasn’t set to rain. Harvey placed one hand along the back of the chair to his left; it held the coffee, and in his right hand was a half-eaten donut. Jim sat one chair down from his left, one hand still in his hoodie, the other holding his own coffee.

 

“Nice bruise by your mouth. Did that just happen this morning?”

 

Jim nodded. “A little parting gift from Anders, Lupin and Madock.” Jim shook his head in disbelief. “I was hoping at least Madock would have come forward.”

 

“He still might.” Harvey mused without any real conviction. Jim responded to his tone immediately and frowned. “The good news is that you still have a job, right?”

 

“For just how long remains to be seen.” Jim paused and took a sip from his coffee. “I don’t regret doing the right thing, I just wish that I had more than just the truth on my side.”

 

“Now you’re talking like a true Gothamite.” Harvey teased with a wink. “I was thinking about that last night. Gotham wants heroes but doesn’t need them. They always end up dead and things just get worse and worse.”

 

“Spoken like a true cynic.”

 

“Hey, I was broken long before you met me, Jim.” Harvey answered honestly. “Cops see things, but journalists do too. We ask the questions no one wants to ask, but everyone wants to hear the answers of.” He shrugged. “I could write books on this city. In fact, I’m trying to do that right now. About the Narrows.”

 

Jim nodded and smiled a little. “Sounds nice. Is it like a historical reference book or fiction?”

 

“No, it’s non-fiction. You pegged it; historical and documentative. It’s slow going right now because I’ve been put on the crime beat. I don’t think I made many friends in the GCPD with my first story though.”

 

Jim chuckled at that wryly and stopped when he took a sip of coffee. “I think you’ll have more then I will over time. But I didn’t sign on to the force to make bosom buddies; I wanted to help people. Change the way things are done in the GCPD.”

 

“I remember a little of that fire from last night.” Harvey reassured gently. “You’re very passionate about justice.”

 

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?”

 

“I suppose not.” Harvey shrugged. “Until it is.”

 

Jim looked away. “More cynicism.”

 

“More like, realism. I’m not idiot either, Jim. I know this city and how she works. I was born and bred in the Narrows, and I’ve worked in the city proper my entire adult life. What about you? Where does Jim Gordon hail from?”

 

“Gotham heights.” Jim disclosed with a slight blush. He didn’t like to admit that he came from money, his father had been the district attorney when he was alive, and his mother was old money that worked as a department head at Gotham University.

 

“Rich then?”

 

“I never was; my parents were.”

 

Harvey nodded. “Siblings?”

 

“One. An older brother; Roger. You?”

 

“Too many to count.” Harvey chuckled. “Eight.” Jim’s eyes enlarged for a few seconds. “I know, it’s a lot; but my Ma raised us well.” Harvey paused and took a sip from his own coffee. “What are your plans for your suspension?”

 

“To play it safe? I should leave town but,” Jim shrugged. “that just seems cowardly.”

 

Harvey nodded and took another bite of donut. Upon swallowing he said, “And you’re all about the brave, huh? No, I get it. The jobs’ your life; if you can’t do that what else is there?”

 

“Law school? Follow in my father’s footsteps and try to better the city that way?”

 

Harvey shook his head. “People like cops only slightly more than they do lawyers. Stick with the GCPD for now.”

 

“If I can.”

 

“Hey, listen Jim,” Harvey took his arm off the top of the chairs and leaned forward, elbows upon his knees. “I know this is a real shitty situation, but you’ll get through it. Here,” Harvey paused and reached into his rumpled shirt pocket and pulled out a business card, holding it out to Jim. “My cells’ written on the back. Call anytime.”

 

Jim took the card and glanced at it. “Consolation prize?” He asked with a sad smirk and Harvey shook his head.

 

“Don’t know about that, but it’s something. I know we’re supposed to be natural born enemies but, let’s bridge the gap, yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Jim agreed rubbing the back of his neck. “So, what does misses Bullock think about your noteworthy profession?”

 

“Not too highly.” Harvey chuckled. “I have the two ex-wives to prove it. No current misses Bullock; don’t want or need one.” He shook his head. “No kids either. And given the nature of my two divorces, that’s a good thing.”

 

“You want children?”

 

“Not as much as I enjoy being an uncle. You?”

 

Jim shook his head. “No kids. And yes; I’m an uncle too. Nice and nephew.” Jim looked out over the lobby of the building before turning his gaze back to Harvey’s. “I feel lost.”

 

“That’s just temporary.” Harvey reassured him. He placed his coffee cup between his thighs and put his hand upon Jim’s shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “C’mon; have a donut and stop feeling sorry for yourself. You’re a good guy Jim; eventually that’ll surface.”

 

“Unless it doesn’t.” Jim countered reaching out for one of Harvey’s proffered donuts.

 

“That’s the spirit!” Harvey praised now rubbing the younger male’s back. “See? A little sugar in you and already things are looking on the up and up.”

 

Jim had to chuckle at this and said, “You’re a terrible motivational speaker, but I appreciate the effort.”

 

“That’s all it takes, Jim.” Harvey moved to raise the final donut to his lips. “That’s all it takes.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arnold Flass did not go to jail. The evidence supported his depiction of events and was matched by three other officers on the scene. Jim was branded a pariah and was finally able to return to work. To his further dismay Flass received a promotion to detective following a drug confiscation that he was instrumental in the acquisition of. Whether the bust was legitimate or just Flass being in the right place at the right time, Jim couldn’t say. The important thing was that Flass now worked two floors above Jim in the narcotics/vice division.  He was still a person of interest for Flass; the larger man vowing to make Jim pay for besmirching his ‘good’ name in the press. All Jim could do was keep his head up, eyes moving and do his job. He knew that eventually he would both earn and receive his own promotion to detective; only that it would take time. Until then he hoped he wasn’t murdered by any of the other cops he worked with.

 

Harvey was sickened by the Flass ascension to detective. Having to write about both the bust and the promotion because they fell upon his desk made his piece read terse and snarky. He didn’t like Flass and he was a little concerned about Jim. He had sent the man a couple of texts when he arrived at the scene, but Jim hadn’t answered. Then the promotion was eminent, and Harvey tried one final message. ‘Real shit show about Flass. Come commiserate with me tonight over drinks.’

 

Harvey was surprised and grateful that this text received an answer of, ‘Tonight no go. Saturday evening good?’ Harvey replied that it was and the two set up a place and time to meet. Harvey figured he would wheedle and apology out of Jim for his previous radio silence then. When the designated appointment time arrived, Harvey was already seated at the bar waiting. Jim entered and even in the dim lighting of the pub Harvey could see the dark circles beneath his eyes. The kid hadn’t been sleeping, he looked a little thinner and some how just a little more good looking then the last they had seen one another. Perhaps it was due to he hadn’t seen Jim in a while.

 

Jim reached the bar and ordered a drink before making his way to Harvey. “Hey, wanna get a table?” Harvey assured him that he did, and they took their drinks to a small, back table in the corner of the room. Jim sat with his back to the wall and Harvey with his back to the door.

 

“I take it Flass has made you his little pet project?”

 

Jim smirked devoid of mirth and took a sip of his beer before answering, “Him and about two thirds of the GCPD. The rest either don’t know who I am, or don’t care one iota about Flass.” Jim shrugged. “Just long as I get to keep the uniform on, I’ll take the derision.”

 

Harvey nodded and reached out to place a hand upon Jim’s shoulder. The cop tensed for a split second then relaxed beneath Harvey’s touch. “Don’t sweat it, Jim. They’ll be some other crisis or whistle blower that’ll come along, and they’ll forget all about hating you.”

 

“Gee, thanks.” Jim canted his head. “You’re really terrible at this comforting thing.”

 

Harvey patted Jim’s shoulder then withdrew his hand yet pointed an extended finger at Jim. “But you can’t say that I don’t care.”

 

“No.” Jim finally smirked. “I guess that I can’t say that.”

 

Harvey toasted him with his tumbler of whiskey. “Here’s to change.”

 

Jim used his own beer bottle and clicked it gently against Harvey’s glass. They each took a sip of liquor and eyed each other across the table. Once they had swallowed they placed their drinks back down. “On my forced ‘sabbatical’,” Jim paused and shifted a little in his chair. “I did some research of my own. I looked up a lot of your articles and read them.”

 

Harvey sat back in his chair sneering. “No, aw Jim. Don’t go and do that.” He whined elongating the last word. “Now I’m gonna get all egotistical and ask you if you liked anything, and if so what, and neither of us wants that so, just;” Harvey paused and held up a palm in indication. “just don’t go there right now, okay?”

 

Jim couldn’t help but laugh a little at Harvey’s deflection. “I really liked that exposé you did on the regiment of soldiers coming home from the Afghan, Pakistani border. I thought that was an excellent read.”

 

Harvey blushed a little and said, “You don’t read a lot, do you Jim?”

 

“I read.” Jim defended through a smile. “But if you don’t want to talk about your work, I can respect that.” Harvey seemed to relax. “I don’t _understand_ it, but I can respect it.” His smile widened. “You should be proud of what you’ve written.”

 

“Forget that for now, Jim.” They drank in silence for a couple of seconds then Harvey added, “I have to go to a union meeting on Tuesday, you attend any of those?”

 

Jim smirked. “Why? Are you asking me to go with you?”

 

“Maybe I am. Does that mean that you’ll go?”

 

Jim took a few seconds to consider his options then answered, “Only if you’re honest with me and tell me why it is you really want me to go.”

 

Harvey sighed heavily and looked down at the table, his tongue rolling in his mouth against one cheek. He leaned one forearm upon the table, moving closer to Jim and revealed, “In case I fall asleep during the meeting, you can be my back up to anything I might miss.”

 

“Why don’t you just record it on your phone?”

 

“Because my cell is a piece of crap and doesn’t record worth shit.” Harvey motioned to Jim. “You asked me why I really want you to go and that’s why. As a bonus if they throw any police acronyms around you’re there to explain.”

 

Jim examined Harvey’s features for a silent pause and then nodded. “Alright. You and I on Tuesday. Union meeting. What could be more fun?”

 

“Sarcasm.” Harvey declared pointing at Jim once more. “It looks good on you. You should wear it more often.” He winked at Jim, who chuckled with a slight flush to his cheeks.

 

They drank, hung out, and played darts until well after midnight. Then they shared a cab to Harvey’s apartment and Jim left to his from there. Harvey stumbled up the stairs as the elevator was out of commission yet again; and once he reached his doorway his brow was dotted in perspiration.

 

“Honey, I’m home.” He sang before collapsing upon the couch, head spinning. “That Jim can drink.” Honey leapt up on his chest and bumped his hand to be pet. “Alright, alright. Don’t get pushy lady.” Harvey admonished softly before beginning to pet her in earnest. “I missed you too.” Within ten minutes Harvey was sound asleep upon his couch. Halfway across town Jim was being pummeled and kicked in the alleyway of his apartment building by three very angry Flass supporters. His last thought before descending into unconsciousness was, he hoped Harvey would forgive him for standing him up on Tuesday due to dying prior to the meeting.

 

As Jim slowly came to consciousness some time later the sensation he initially felt was pain. He attempted to move his arm and that pain became excruciating. Slowly, stiltedly, Jim managed to pull himself up onto all fours. Next, he tried to move into a seated position but couldn’t bring himself to face the agony. Everything hurt, his entire torso a mass of throbbing aches and stabbing pains. He crawled to the mouth of the alley and grabbed onto the corner of the building and used it to carefully haul himself up onto his feet. It took several try’s, but he finally managed to stand. Next, he used whatever walls and doors that were available to him to make it to the elevator in the lobby. At the late hour no one was around to either witness his struggle, nor to help him with it. Jim nearly fell into the elevator and leaned against it’s wall as the floors ticked by. He knew if he sat down again that he wouldn’t be able to get up. His legs were shaking, and his head was spinning. He could taste blood in his mouth, and he could barely see out of one eye. He felt like vomiting from the pain but managed to keep himself composed. He made it to the door of his apartment and fell through the door, closing and locking it behind him.

 

Jim made straight for his bathroom and was taking out his first aid kit from under the sink when he slunk to the floor and vomited in the toilet. The pulling on his ribs was insanely painful and nearly began crying because of the intensity of it.  He blacked out for a few minutes and upon waking up leaning against the toilet, he began the slow process of accessing wounds and patching himself up. It took him three hours and by that time he was ready to fall asleep from exhaustion and physical trauma. He managed to make it to his bed and carefully lower himself to it. Laying down he hugged one of his pillows close to him and rested his head upon it. He gave into a few tears and thankfully slipped off to sleep. Hours later when he awoke he was stiff beyond reason and in so much agony he knew he would have to get himself to an emergency room for X-rays and an evaluation. Forcing himself up Jim reached for some clean clothes and began to dress. It was going to be a long day.

 

Monday morning Jim reported to work despite a few broken ribs and a multitude of abrasions and bruises to his torso and face. The swelling around his eye had diminished enough that he could see out of it. He ignored all the stares he was receiving and once everyone was read the briefing and asked questions, they were dismissed. Jim waited for the rest to file out and his boss, Williams stopped him and asked, “Do you want to take the next few days off, Gordon?”

 

“No thank you sir.” Jim responded in his clipped, military tone. “I am able to perform my duties so I reported to my post.”

 

Williams nodded. “Carry on then.” He watched Jim move stiffly by him. “If you change your mind, I’ll approve the time.”

 

“Thank you, sir.” Jim concentrated upon walking out of the room and make his way to the motor pool to check out his cruiser for the day.

 

On Tuesday Harvey was standing at the back of the union hall and glancing at his wrist watch every few seconds. Jim should have arrived by now and he was anxious to see the man. The meeting was about to start and blessedly Jim finally arrived. Harvey sucked in a breath upon seeing Jim’s wounded and stiff physique.

 

“Holy Fuck, Jim. What happened to you?”

 

Jim sidled up along side of Harvey and addressed him while surveying the meeting space. “Flass’ little cronies were waiting for me when I got home Saturday night.” He then changed a look at Harvey. “It looks worse than it is.”

 

“Don’t fucking lie.” Harvey reached up and carefully took a hold of Jim’s upper arm. “C’mon. Let’s get out of here before they close the doors.”

 

“Why? You’re supposed to,”

 

“Yeah, yeah.” Harvey interrupted turning Jim in the direction of the exit. “There’s a lot of things ‘I’m supposed to’ but it doesn’t mean I always do them.” He navigated them into the parking lot. “How’d you get here tonight?”

 

“Taxi.”

 

“Good.” Harvey lead Jim to his car and was relieved when Jim climbed in the passenger side without resistance and complaint. They rode in compatible silence for several blocks before Jim asked where they were going. “I’m taking you home. You look like you’re in desperate need of some TLC.”  Jim looked out of the window pensively and recited off his address to Harvey. “I didn’t say anything about your home, Jim.” Harvey thought he caught the beginnings of a smile at the corners of Jim’s mouth.

 

Once they arrived at Harvey’s, he was extremely thankful that for once the elevator was working and they took it to Harvey’s floor. He helped Jim walk to his door, and reflexively called out to his cat in greeting. She meowed from somewhere in the living room and Harvey turned on a light. “There’s the couch, go ahead and have a seat.” Jim thanked him and crossed the room to the piece of furniture. Seconds later Honey jumped up onto the couch to greet him and Jim didn’t move while she smelled and accessed him. Finding him no threat, she left him alone and went to Harvey for her dinner tribute. When Harvey returned out of the kitchen he had a hot drink for Jim; tea he said that would help soothe his aches and when Jim took a sip of it he realized that was because there was alcohol in it.

 

“I shouldn’t be drinking when I’m on pain medication.”

 

Harvey dismissed the concern with a wave. “There’s not much in it.” He sat down upon the couch alongside of Jim. “Did you recognize who they all were?”

 

Jim nodded. “Mostly, there’s one I’m fuzzy on but two of them were definitely Lupin and Anders.”

 

“Sons of bitches.”

 

Jim smirked at that. “My thought exactly.” He shifted a little, his breath catching in his ribs. “It’ll take a while to heal, but I’ll be fine.”

 

“This time.” Harvey stated all but asking Jim to allow him to see the damage. He shifted in his own stance and his fingers reached for Jim’s tee-shirt then retracted without touching him. “Did they say anything?”

 

“Just that their attack was courtesy of Flass.”

 

“Asshole.” Jim merely nodded in agreement. “Did you go to the hospital? Or are those pain killers a self-medicating type deal?”

 

“I went to the ER Sunday morning.”

 

“Next time? Call me and I’ll help you sort it out. I don’t mind, and it’s better that you have someone there anyway. It’s not good to be alone when you’ve been brutalized like this.”

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. But hopefully there won’t be a next time.” Harvey could tell that Jim didn’t believe the summation anymore than he did. “Thank you.”

 

“No worries.” Harvey watched Jim for a few seconds sipping his tea and his eyes began drooping somewhat. “Here,” he took the tea cup from Jim and placed it upon the coffee table. He pulled on Jim’s arm and placed it around his shoulders, pulling the man up to his feet. He protested a little and Harvey told him to hush. “Your off kilter and I don’t want you falling and breaking anything more than is already injured.” He led Jim into his bedroom and helped his sit down upon the bed. “We’ll get you nice and comfortable and you can have a little sleep. It’ll do you good. Yeah?”

 

“Yeah.” Jim agreed the thought of someone being awake and watching his back while he slept sounding better and better every second his head wasn’t upon the pillow. Harvey knelt before him and removed his shoes and then gently raised and pivoted his legs until they were on the bed. He covered him over with the bed clothes and patted Jim’s shoulder.

 

“Good night Jim.”

 

“Night Harv.” Jim was asleep the second his eye lids closed, and Harvey exited the room, leaving the door cracked so that he could easily check up on the younger man while he slept.  He went and sat down at his desk, glancing at Honey who appeared as if she were about to jump from the floor onto its surface.

 

“Don’t even think about it cat.” Harvey directed softly. “We’ve got a guest and I don’t need you knocking everything onto the floor because I’m not paying attention to you.” He bent and picked her up, much to her complaint. She stopped mewing once he scratched her under the chin and behind the ears; immediately purring.  “That’s what I thought. He’s a good kid, Hon. Just give yourself a minute and you’ll like him just fine.” God knew that Harvey did. He wanted the three cops to pay for what they had done but wasn’t certain that legally there was anything he could do to prove anyone’s involvement. They were cops, so they would have been cognizant of surveillance footage.  Otherwise it was just Jim’s word against theirs and after what had been printed in the paper about Jim and Flass, who would believe him? The important thing would be to keep Jim from being another statistic in the Chronicle obituaries about a cop killed in the line of duty.

 

Frustrated and unable to help Jim anymore that night, Harvey settled in to work a little on his Narrows book. When he checked on Jim later he wondered if that was the first time since the attack that Jim had slept soundly. If tables were reversed Harvey knew damned well that he’d be a paranoid mess. It wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right. Harvey knew that Jim deserved better and that the GCPD just wasn’t going to give it too him. All they were interested in were protecting a murderer and ostracizing a hero. Harvey returned to his desk and placed a new slip of paper into his typewriter.  In a snap decision he realized he was going to follow Jim’s career and tell his story, if for no one else’s eyes then for Jim’s alone. He felt lite for the first time in months and began to type out everything he knew about Jim, had observed and experienced. He wrote about the truth behind the police shooting and Jim’s subsequent treatment following it. As he worked Harvey realized he needed more information from Jim; that he would have to seriously interview him for the bones of the book. He also understood that this book was an important one; something he needed to write no matter what the outcome ended up being for Jim.

 

Hours later Jim stirred to a silent apartment. He slowly moved, hauling himself out of bed and shuffling in his socked feet to the half-closed bedroom door. He found Harvey in what was probably intended to be a anti chamber to the living room that Harvey utilized as his home office. There were bookshelves surrounding him and Harvey was dead asleep in his desk chair, slumped over the typewriter. Jim walked over and carefully placed his hand upon Harvey’s shoulder and shook him gently. “Harvey?”

 

Harvey’s head shot up and he smiled at Jim as his eye sight came into focus. “Jim. Hey! How’d you sleep?”

 

“Really well. Thank you. What, what’re you doing?”

 

“Just working on my book and I guess I bored myself to sleep. You hungry? I can fix us some breakfast.”

 

“That would be great. Thank you. Do you want any help in the kitchen?”

 

“No, no. I can handle breakfast food. Thank you though.” He rose from the chair some joints popping and creaking as he did so. Embarrassed he smiled at Jim. “Old age is a killer. You’ll see when you get there.”

 

“I feel like I’m there now with as stunted as my movements are at the moment.”

 

Harvey nodded in acceptance and pet Jim on the shoulder in sympathy. After breakfast Harvey drove Jim home so that he could shower and change for work. He was going to have to face Turnwell that he hadn’t been to the union meeting the previous night, unless he could find a contact that would give him the skinny. What he soon learned was that thanks to his byline that his name was almost just as toxic as Jim’s. It was going to take some fancy foot work to get in someone’s good graces, both Turnwell’s and the GCPD. At least one of which he could lie too, distance himself from Jim Gordon, but the other? Was not going to be pleased.

 

Jim had stopped for his meal break and elected to get a smoothy with his salad. He was headed from his cruiser to throw away his trash when outside the beverage place, when Flass exited the building and glared at him. He strode over to Jim with his partner, a detective Jim didn’t know the name of.

 

“Well lookie what we got ourselves here, Sims. If it ain’t little Jimmy Gordon.” Sims huffed a laugh and Flass slapped the trash out of Jim’s hands, so it fell onto the ground. Leering he towered over Jim and sneered, “The _snitch_. How’s it feel to be the GCPD’s **least** wanted?”

 

Jaw setting, Jim stood his ground, one hand hovering near his gun. “I don’t know, how’s it feel to be the murdering, asshole, missing link of the GCPD?”

 

Flass bunched up a fist full of Jim’s uniform shirt and twisted it as he pushed forward and down into Jim’s face with his own. “Better watch your tongue Jimmy. I’ll come along and cut it out of your throat. Got that pretty boy?”

 

“You going to send Lupin and Anders to do that for you too?” Jim demanded not backing down. Sims was looking around nervously and pulling on Flass’ arm. “You want me? **You** come and get me.”

 

Flass’ gaze flashed with livid fire. “Oh, I’ll do more than that Jimmy. I’ll make you choke on my dick before I fucking end you. Like that would ya? I’ll bet a faggot like you would cream himself for a taste of a real man’s dick.”

 

“Never yours.” Jim retorted then Flass shoved him back hard and kicked Jim’s garbage.

 

“Pick up your trash Jimmy. There’s a good little faggot boy.” Flass spit at Jim’s feet and then walked away with Sims.

 

Infuriated, Jim bent and cleaned up the leavings and threw it in the garbage bin. He wasn’t afraid of Flass but he was sickened by him; and angry. Straightening his uniform Jim turned back in the direction of the cruiser mumbling curses under his breath. He was ramped up wishing he could fight Flass; send him to jail; but the murder was categorized as a good shooting and there was nothing he could do to change that. He knew that Harvey would tell him to watch his back if Jim called him right now. He took out his cell phone and dialed Harvey anyway, not certain what he was looking for beyond being talked down off the ledge of extreme frustration.

 

“Jim?”

 

“Yeah. I just had a little run in with Flass. He’s gunning for me and I don’t know what to do. I _want_ to shoot him in the face, but that’s not going to solve anything. I feel like punching the earth.”

 

Harvey arched an eye bow. “I might have something better. Ever box?”

 

“In the Marines.”

 

“No, I mean total technique and, never mind. Just meet me at this address. It’s a boxing gym and they’ll have someone there you can punch. If not, it’ll be one of the best work outs you’ve ever had. I’ll meet you there after your shift.”

 

“That late? Are you sure?”

 

“Yeah.” Harvey assured. “I’ve been living the night owl life lately because of the crime desk. The freaks come out at night, right?” Harvey read off the address and Jim wrote it down.

 

“Thanks Harvey.”

 

“Feel better?”

 

“Not so homicidal at least.”

 

“That’s a start. I’ll see you soon.” They said their farewells and severed the conversation, Harvey smiling to himself and Jim not scowling as greatly.  At the appointed time Jim went to the gym dressed for a work out. Harvey hadn’t arrived yet, but when he named dropped to one of the trainers on duty; the only one from the looks of the place; knew the Irishman.

 

“Strong technique. Can take a punch. You here to fight him?”

 

“Uh, no.” Jim assured looking around and he was surprised by just how many men were in rings fighting or just working out so early in the morning. “I was hoping to go up against someone a little more, uh,” Jim grimaced and groped for words that didn’t come.

 

“Spry?” Said the trainer; Lusk; pushing the sleeves of his sweat shirt up to his elbows.

 

“More like, someone I’d be less likely to hurt. I really like Harvey.”

 

Lusk nodded. “Alright then. Let’s get you warmed up while we wait. I’ll see what you can do. Ex-military or still active service?”

 

“Ex.” Jim pronounced following Lusk to the part of the gym where he wanted to evaluate him.

 

Lusk motioned to Jim’s face. “Looks like you got done up pretty well recently.”

 

“I was jumped.” Jim supplied in vague honesty. “I have ribs that are still healing, the eye barely hurts anymore.”

 

Lusk grunted. “We’ll keep away from the midsection then. Face though? You gotta give us something to target.”

 

“It’s fine.” Jim permitted. Seconds later he heard Harvey summon him. Once Harvey reached the two men he shook Lusk’s hand and patted Jim on the shoulder.

 

“Did I miss anything good?” Jim shook his head and Lusk replied, ‘not a thing’.

 

They spent the next twenty minutes warming up Jim and then taking his measure. Harvey was impressed with Jim’s form and felt a bit proud of the younger man. He also caught sight of dark bruising beneath the white of Jim’s tee-shirt and the bandages wrapping up his ribs. By the time Jim was an hour into his work out he was feeling less aggravated and prone to fantasize about attacking Flass. Lusk put Jim in the sparing ring with another gym member that he was training, and the two gave one another a nice run for their money. At one point the other fighter forgot that the torso area of the ribs was a no strike zone and Jim bent over immediately in agony. He coughed a few times and straightened himself before waving at the man to come at him once more. Lusk wanted to see what Jim would do, while Harvey’s instinct was that the other fighter had intentionally hurt Jim, and that the match should end that instant. For Jim’s cool down Harvey put on the training pads for his hands and directed Jim to strike at him. By the time they were finished Jim was drenched in sweat but looking immensely more relaxed.

 

“You doing okay?” Harvey asked placing a hand upon Jim’s waist. “Feeling better?”

 

Jim nodded. “Thank you for this Harvey. I’d hug you but,” Jim floundered allowing the rest of the sentence to be assumed.

 

“I don’t mind a little sweat if you don’t.” Harvey jested opening his arms wide. Jim stepped forward and they embraced for several seconds, Harvey patting Jim’s back before they parted. He noticed how tightly Jim had hugged him and how he had burrowed his face against Harvey’s shoulder. “I’m glad this helped.” He remarked withdrawing from the hug. He felt a fluttering in his stomach and wanted to prolong the embrace long as possible but public propriety wouldn’t allow for it.

 

“Me too.” Jim wiped a hand across his face to clear his forehead of perspiration. Harvey handed Jim the towel from off his shoulder and Jim thanked him softly and used it, before handing it back. “Is there anything I can do for you in return?”

 

“Actually, there is.” Harvey stated. “But it can wait until tomorrow morning, if I can come by your place after your shift?”

 

“Sure. Do you remember where it is?” Harvey told him that he did. “Do I get a hint as to what I’m doing for you?”

 

“Just talk about your life. I’ll tell you about mine too, its not going to be all one sided but, yeah. I have some questions I’d like to know the answers too.”

 

A little surprised Jim agreed and they two left the gym, Harvey giving Jim a ride home. When they arrived at the building Jim looked at Harvey. “If you don’t want to wait until next week, you could come up now if you’d like.”

 

“Yeah.” Harvey stated clearing his throat next to steady his voice and not make it sound so breathy. “I’d like that.” He accompanied Jim to his apartment and Jim turned to look at Harvey and wet his lips in thought.

 

“I have to take a shower, would you like,” Jim paused and rest his hands upon his own hips. “to take one before I do?”

 

“You sure?”

 

Jim nodded. “I’ve got a tee-shirt or so that I think’ll fit you.”

 

While Harvey had been in the shower and dressing, Jim had been in the kitchen making coffee and a bowl of chips and pretzel mix. He left Harvey comfortably on the couch while he took his own shower. It was extremely perfunctory, and Jim dressed quickly, his hair damp from rinsing it. Harvey was surprised to see him so quickly and Jim shrugged, joining him upon the couch. Harvey motioned down to the ‘Harvard’ tee shirt he was wearing. “Alma mater?” he questioned.

 

Jim smiled tenderly. “It was my Dad’s. After he died, I started sleeping with it, so I could feel closer to him; imagine that I could smell his scent.” Jim shrugged. “It was stupid, but at the time it’s all I had left.”

 

“You were what, eleven then?” Jim’s head tilted in skeptical interest. “I did a little research.” Harvey admitted. “Just superficial, public record stuff. Nothing too in depth. That’s why I wanted to interview you really; fill in some gaps.” Jim’s expression relaxed visibly. “And for the record? I think it’s sweet that you wanted to hold onto him like that. Was his college special to him?”

 

“Yeah.” Jim’s tender smile returned. “He said it was some of the best years of his life.” Jim reached for his coffee and took a sip, before placing the mug back down upon the coffee table. Thus far Harvey left his untouched. “You feel the need to interview me why exactly?”

 

Harvey cleared his throat and blushed a little. “Because I decided to write about, well **you** ; your career and the whole, one good cop against a sea of corruption type thing.” Harvey paused and shifted in discomfort. “It’s a good story Jim; something that Gotham needs to see. The whole Leroy Evans shooting is systemic around the entire country. But you stood up; you said that it was murder and it’s cost you.” Harvey motioned to Jim’s bruised and battered face. “I want to chronicle your rise from the ashes. I think this is the beginning of something great and I want to be there to see it to the end; no matter how long or short that reign is.” Harvey reached out and touched Jim’s forearm. “I believe in what I see in you.”

 

“You mean the story.” Jim corrected showing cynicism of his own. “Harvey, I’m not a hero,”

 

“Yet you act like one.” Harvey refuted firmly. “That’s what gives me hope; the very thing this City needs and lacks.”

 

“Harvey,”

 

“Let me write it. If you don’t like what I’ve constructed; how you’re portrayed, then I won’t publish. I can agree to that, and this story is years in the making. There’s plenty of opportunity and time for the two of us to change our minds. What do you say? Let an old journalist write something that excites him for a change? Or clip his wings and condemn him to a writer’s cage of mediocrity and bullshit?”

 

Jim had to chuckle at this and placed his hand over Harvey’s upon his arm. “All right. Interview me and we’ll see where this goes.”

 

Harvey beamed at Jim. “You won’t regret this.” Jim wasn’t certain that he wouldn’t in the end.

 

For now, Harvey asked him about his family and his relationships with them. It was tough going for Jim had little to say about his mother Nora and his older brother Roger. The three of them had never been intimate and close, especially following the death of Jason Gordon. Jim was vague but also honest about them, and Harvey began to see that upon his father’s death Jim lived a lonely and fairly isolated childhood. From there they discussed his education of private schools and college through the G.I. bill following his stint in the military. He was older than Harvey had initially believed, just thirty and still relegated to be a uniformed officer. A while into their conversation and Harvey asked Jim about his romantic life and immediately the younger male stopped talking and requested they move on to other topics of discussion.

 

“So, there’s never been anyone serious? Not even a little? High school? College? No one?”

 

Jim’s expression twisted in distaste. “There was one, we were engaged; it ended; and I don’t want to talk about it.” Jim silenced quickly ending all other discussion.

 

Harvey held up a hand in placation and made a mental note to go digging further with the new information Jim had presented him with. What he would later find would solidify just why Jim hadn’t wanted to talk about his previous affair. Barbara Kean was a few years older than Jim and met him while he was in the military. They corresponded while he was stationed overseas and then when he returned to Gotham they were engaged. She was from a rich, known family and Jim was a little no one from Gotham Heights whose father used to be the City’s district attorney. From what Harvey found the two were never married, but Barbara Kean had given birth to a son named Jason Keanan Gordon, who passed away at only twelve days old. Harvey guessed that was why the two had ended their engagement and probably Jim never quite recovered from the loss of either love. Harvey elected to contrive a way to meet Miss Kean and see if she would be a little forth coming on their relationship prior to her pregnancy. She owned both an art gallery and a night club in Gotham City proper and Harvey hoped his charm and ingenuity was enough to grant him an audience with her. At the very least he had a starting place.

 

When Harvey finally did track down Barbara Kean she was everything a high society, trust fund, woman was. She was well into her thirties but stunningly beautiful. She had a mega white smile and sharp canines that knew how to inflict damage. She was intelligent, shrewd, and had a presence about her that screamed no nonsense. She was polite and smiled in greeting, but the action never reached her eyes. Five minutes with her and Harvey realized she was a complete psychopath. There was a bite and impatience to her that he wondered if she had always possessed it, or it had been freed once she and Jim were no longer together. She spoke freely to Harvey once he explained his presence at her art gallery. She told him that she was bored to tears, linked her arm in his and walked the gallery with him delighted until he was three questions in and she asked him to cut to the chase.

 

Harvey learned three things from Barbara that night about Jim Gordon. The first was that she felt he was not that well endowed and vanilla plain in bed. The second was that she judged him to be a closeted homosexual; and third, originally, she had wanted to have an abortion, but Jim had found out about the pregnancy and she was obligated to keep the baby. All Jim had ever wanted from her was the stability of a wife and children, but he was passionless about either. In fact, he didn’t have a passionate bone in his body and Barbara had an affair with one man and two women over the duration of their relationship. Jim was just too interested in repressing himself; his great anger; and living as a white bread, wholesome, suburbanite. The revelation about the baby was shocking to Harvey to say the least. He wondered if Jim knew just how avidly she had wanted the abortion; to rid herself of their child without even telling him it existed. He wondered if that was the reason why Jim didn’t want to discuss it; didn’t want to relive the emotional anguish of the fact that Barbara could do that to someone she allegedly loved.

 

Armed with this new information Harvey researched Jim’s mother and brother, finding that only his mother still lived in Gotham. Roger was an assistant DA in Phoenix Arizona where he lived with his wife and two children.  Harvey contacted Roger first and confirmed more of Jim’s isolated and lonely childhood. However, Roger was not shy about placing the blame squarely upon Jim’s shoulders and said, “He doesn’t talk. He fortifies his feelings keeping everyone at arm’s length. How is anyone supposed to combat that?” Harvey thought that Roger’s militant wording was of interest, everything seeming like a battle with Jim in Roger’s eyes. As for Barbara, while Roger hadn’t been aware of the engagement he had known they were together and that she had lost the baby, thinking it a miscarriage and not an actual birth. Either way he had sent her flowers and Jim a sympathy card after the death. He wouldn’t have minded having a nephew if he communicated more openly than his father. As to Barbara’s claims that Jim was homosexual, Roger concluded that while he didn’t know anything about that, it would not surprise him. In fact, it would make sense to him given Jim’s penchant for repressing his needs and feelings.

 

Harvey’s next foray into Jim Gordon’s life was to contact his mother. She was currently the head of the English Department at Gotham University. She had tenure and specialized in Victorian writers from around the world. Harvey crashed one of her classes, his tactic of going through her office and leaving a dozen messages with her teaching assistant had gone unanswered. He remained behind as she prepared for his next class and approached her.

 

“Mrs. Gordon?”

 

Nora looked up at him with disdain. “Aren’t you a little old to be in a freshman class, Mr.?”

 

“Bullock. Harvey.” Harvey informed holding out his hand to her. It went ignored and he withdrew the gesture quickly. “I’d like to ask you a few questions if I may?”

 

“Contact my office and if I can fit you in,”

 

“No. I’m sorry, it isn’t about your courses; though my messages weren’t replied to. I’m a journalist with the Gotham Chronicle. I wanted to ask you a few questions about your son, Jim.”

 

Nora Gordon’s entire expression pinched, her eyes growing cold. “I have nothing to say on the matter. If you want to know anything about him I suggest you speak to him directly.”

 

“I have, as well as your eldest son, Roger. I was hoping that I could get a few statements from you. About his childhood especially after the death of his father?”

 

“You ghastly man!” Nora huffed straightening her form. “Just who do you think you are, coming into my place of work and asking me to relieve the most horrendous point in my life? My husband is dead, yes. My sons and I are not. There is nothing left to know, Mr. Bullock. No mystery that needs to be ferreted out into the light. Now I suggest you exit this hall immediately before I have campus security escort you to the police for trespassing!”

 

“Please,” Harvey reasoned. “I just wanted to know what he was like as a child? Did you know about his engagement to Barbara Kean? The death of their son? What do you think about his career in the GCPD? Did you ever fear for him when he was in the military? I just,”

 

“Mr. Bullock, **please**!” Nora shouted at him before regaining her composure and addressing him in a sharp, clipped and angry tone. “My son has been dead to me for the past nineteen years and I don’t care to discuss him any further. Leave now or I will inform the authorities of your harassment.”

 

“My apologies.” Harvey stated with a slight bow. He then began to walk up the stairs to the hall exit. “So much for Mama Gordon.” He mumbled beneath his breath. He glanced behind him and saw that Nora had gone back to her preparations for the next class. In that way she and her son were exactly alike; he wondered just how closely mirrored they truly were.

 

As the weeks passed Harvey continued to work upon his Gordon piece and Jim was dealt another blow at work. The ramifications of his official punishment had finally hit, and he was condemned to be a correctional officer at the Arkham Asylum; still on the swing night shift. Harvey saw him mostly on the weekends, and sometimes during the week at Lusk’s boxing gym. They often met for drinks, or an early, early breakfast. Always there was a steady flow of phone calls and text messages. Sometimes the only thing keeping Jim afloat with the shift in his vocation was Harvey’s company. He wore a uniform just the same, but it was that of a corrections officer. He worked with the criminally insane and violent offenders that Gotham had to offer. He did so behind the scenes and with little assistance from those he worked with. The warden already disliked him as Jim asked too many questions and spoke up about safety code and procedural violations in the work place.

 

Harvey even went as far to go to the Asylum a few times to meet Jim on his breaks. There was a doctor Leslie Tompkins who enjoyed flirting with Jim and was apparently waiting for him to ask her out. Harvey encouraged it and when she finally got tired for waiting and approached Jim, he agreed to the date. Harvey felt mixed emotions about the outing on the one hand he was happy that his friend was now dating a gorgeous and professional doctor that was nice as the day was long; but on the other his gut tightened, and his mouth felt dry whenever he thought about the two of them together. After Jim’s first date he relayed the entire evening to Harvey, who could almost hear the disdain in Jim’s voice. It wasn’t his imagination. Was it? They went out a few times more then Jim ended up solving a case at Arkham that was big enough to use as leverage against the Police Commissioner to hide extreme negligence of the prison system. Harvey urged Jim to use the information as a bribe to be reinstated to the GCPD as a detective. Harvey enjoyed writing about the case and promotion, very proud of his friends’ accomplishment and happy that he had been the sounding board and helpful in the investigation himself. What Harvey couldn’t write about was how that Jim used his success to garner a place in the robbery/homicide department, on the main floor of police headquarters. The loop hole left by the commissioner might not be listed in the Chronicle article, but it made it into Harvey’s Gordon piece, which was rapidly becoming a novel.

 

To celebrate, Harvey took Jim out to a steak dinner after they spent the day shopping for suits, shirts, ties and a new pair of shoes for Jim’s new job. Jim was absolutely beaming through the entire process, proud as could be and Harvey returned every one of those smiles with one of his own. He enjoyed seeing Jim happy and smiling; it was rare in and of it self he noticed, but perhaps that was because Jim’s resting expression was mired in anger? Harvey still asked questions to prompt Jim into revealing things about himself, and still gave as good as he got in return. Soon it was apparent to the two of them that they were best friends. Honey always gave Harvey a demeaning look of judgement whenever he texted Jim in her presence. It was obviously clear to her that her owner was a bit sweet on the younger man. They had discussed their age difference of fifteen years prior, but it was times like this when Harvey noticed the gap. He started to tease Jim and call him ‘junior’ on occasion, yet the nick name was vastly becoming a term of endearment. While Jim wasn’t one to assign nick names, he did blush up nicely and smirk whenever Harvey called him junior.

 

As for Jim, he was ever increasingly aware of his attraction to Harvey. He lived for the moments when they were alone together, and Harvey would sling an arm around his shoulders, or praise him for some accomplishment gained. He loved their heated conversations regarding Gotham sports teams versus other cities, and conversations about any topic that came before them. While he was stingy with verbally communicating his fondness for the older man, it was apparent to Jim that Harvey at least knew that he was his best and most trusted friend. The amount of time they spent together alone was a massive indicator of how much Jim loved Harvey. He didn’t waste his time with others that weren’t of keen interest. As for how deeply Jim felt for Harvey, he was keeping that well to the vest. There was no way that he was going to jeopardize what they did share tainting it with what he desperately needed with Harvey. Harvey had given no indication that he was interested in men sexually; and Jim knew damn well that he hadn’t. The revelation would come too much as a surprise and Jim didn’t want to risk it. Therefore, he kept his needs to himself and basked in Harvey’s granted affections.  It was becoming increasingly difficult with each passing day.

 

Harvey had gotten back into Turnwell’s good graces and was offered another writing position, but Harvey stated he wanted the crime beat with a caveat; some intern would attend the union and city meetings. He was going to work some normal day light hours again or he would go free-lance despite Turnwell’s intention. Turnwell liked the proposal and Harvey found himself working a similar schedule to Jim. To celebrate Jim took Harvey out to dinner and the two ended up back at Harvey’s place where Jim seemed to feel the most comfortable. The factoid hadn’t escaped Harvey’s notice, and while he didn’t care where they hung out, apparently Jim did. Jim was lounging back on Harvey’s sofa, legs spread, spine slumped, hands upon his middle. He was wearing jeans and a black V-neck, long tee shirt, smirking at Harvey. Harvey was currently in an argument with his cat, Honey; as she was perched upon his chapters of Jim’s book and would not move. Every time he attempted to nudge or pick her up, Honey would bat at him and give warning growls.

 

“Fine, you know what? Fuck it!” Harvey said, reaching for the edge of the stack and yanking hard. Honey went scrambling and other papers and objects fell from the desk as she took off seeking safe asylum. At least Harvey had the chapters, even if Jim was laughing at him.  “Hey, no laughing!” He pointed at Jim with an extended finger as he made his way back to the leather couch. He stood before Jim and straightened the papers before handing them over. Jim sat up a little and stopped giggling.

 

“She’s going to get you back for that later.”

 

“I know. Story of my ex-wives too.” Harvey sighed resigning himself to the course of history before sitting down along side of Jim. He placed an arm around him and pointed at the pages with the opposite hand. “This is good, it’s all about the Commissioner and the case at Arkham.”

 

Jim glanced at the pages in his hands and then back to Harvey’s features. “But I _lived_ it.”

 

“And I _wrote_ it.” Harvey snagged the chapters from Jim with his opposite hand and held them over his lap. “Look, you’re the one that said you liked a few of my articles. I’m just trying to share with you my potential opus here.”

 

“Humble brag.”

 

Harvey’s brow furrowed. “How do you even know that term?” Jim shrugged and placed a hand upon Harvey’s thigh. There was a momentary blip in his expression as he reacted to the firm strength beneath his hand, but that soon melted away back to his smirk. He raised his gaze to Harvey’s.

 

“I have an idea. Why don’t you _read_ me the piece, so I can sit here and silently judge it?”

 

“You won’t be cruel?”

 

“I promise nothing.”

 

Harvey picked up the sheets of paper and began reading out loud. At first Jim looked forward and then his gaze slipped to Harvey’s profile and he watched the older male’s lips move as he spoke. For a while Jim sat and listened to the timbre of his voice and didn’t really focus upon the words he said so much as the fact that he was speaking. Jim wet his full lips and watched Harvey put down the papers; yet continue to read; as he scratched the side of his cheek through his beard. Jim loved his beard; it was one of the things that he found so attractive about the man. He wanted to feel the scratch of it from head to toe and be able to freely explore Harvey’s body in return. The expanses of white skin; the mostly bare chest; every freckle and every inch of him. He left his hand upon Harvey’s thigh and while he didn’t retract his touch, he didn’t move it either.

 

At one-point Jim was certain he heard his brother’s name and then Harvey abruptly stopped reading. “Wait,” Jim directed squeezing Harvey’s thigh a little. “What did you just say?”

 

“N-nothing. It’s nothing. I had just made some notes is all. About your life before the GCPD. Mentioning that uh, that you have a brother.” Harvey swallowed and forced himself to meet Jim’s gaze. “Well, that’s about it so,”

 

“No, it isn’t.” Jim interrupted motioning to the papers in Harvey’s hand. “Why did you mention Roger? That sounded like it went way past that he’s my older brother.”

 

Harvey sighed plaintively. “Okay, you’re right. I may have interviewed him for his perspective on your childhood.”

 

Jim’s eyes widened in surprise then instantly narrowed into livid fury. “You did **what**?” Jim sat forward upon the couch, yanking his hand off Harvey’s lap as he did so.

 

“I talked to your brother. And you mother, and Barbara Kean.”

 

Now furious Jim leapt to his feet. “You had no right! Anything you wanted to know about that time you should have just _asked_ me!” Jim now stood before Harvey and was yelling at him without pulling any punches. “How could you invade my privacy like that? I thought you were my friend!”

 

“I **am** your friend, Jim!” he sat forward upon the couch. “But I’m also a reporter and I write in depth, and that means that I have to get other peoples perspective on the big picture; which in this case happens to be **you**!”

 

“I never _asked_ to be your subject matter Harvey! You took that upon yourself and now you’ve shattered my trust in you.”  Jim’s fists clenched, and he realized he was deeply hurt and angry. He stalked over to the apartment door. “I can’t, I can’t do this.” He placed one hand upon the door knob and pointed a finger at Harvey with the other. “You fucking asshole!” With nothing more to say, Jim exited the apartment slamming the door behind him. Harvey stood up from the couch and called after Jim, but it was too late. The damaged was inflicted and Harvey shouted, throwing the sheets of paper away from him. He had done this to himself; him and his fragile ego; and there was nothing he could do in the interim. Jim needed time to cool off and Harvey needed time to drink. How could he have been so stupid? Why was Jim so over sensitive about the other people in his life? It wasn’t like he had given Harvey much to work with, leaving it _necessary_ for him to go beyond Jim for fodder.

 

“Damn it!” Harvey exclaimed and kicked the couch in bitter anger. He heard a meow from the arm of the couch, yelled, ‘not now!’ at his cat and stormed over to where he kept his liquor. He was going to require a lot of liquid memory loss to forget the pain he saw in Jim’s eyes; copious amounts.

 

When Jim returned home he was so angry he attacked his punching bag with such intensity that he forgot about his healing ribs. He was reminded seconds later by the searing stabbing pain in them yet fought through the anguish to continue venting his anger. Why had Harvey done this to him? He wanted to know what Harvey asked them, what they said in return; yet at the same time he knew if he set eyes on Harvey that he would punch him out. Jim continued to work the back until he was panting and holding his sides in agony, slumped over; he was dizzy and collapsed onto his bed. Sucking in cool air his ribcage seized a little and he yelped out in pain. Why was it whenever Jim got close to someone they weren’t satisfied by him? Why did they insist on puzzling him out through the eyes of others? Every time; it never failed; Barbara had grilled Roger, Nora and any of Jim’s friends seeking out any secrets he had not revealed to her already. What was missing in him that it drove people to external sources of information? He had given everything to Harvey; more than he ever had Barbara and _this_ was how he was repaired for his intimacy?

 

Jim coughed, imagined it was a cough when it was a sob. His chest rose and fell as he cried and he forced himself to sit up, cursing in pain through his tears. He didn’t want to cry, he didn’t want to yell, he didn’t even want to punch anything anymore. All Jim wanted to do was curl up into a lonely ball and stop. Stop breathing; stop caring; stop talking; stop feeling; stop being. Why couldn’t Harvey see what a breach of faith and trust this was? Why wasn’t he begging Jim’s forgiveness? Why was Jim so broken over such small of a betrayal? It was small in Harvey’s eyes; a trifle of nothing; and yet to Jim it was monumental; a friendship ender. He didn’t want to think of life without Harvey; it was too painful. So, Jim rose from the bed and elected to change and go for a run, what else could he do to forget the pain that didn’t involve drinking?

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Arnold Flass wanted Jim Gordon dead. He didn’t care how it happened, but it needed too. A case of theirs over lapped and now Flass was growing a little bit nervous that his little drug empire was going to exposed, as was he for being a dirty cop. Flass was the mastermind behind a drug trade that spanned over three departments of the GCPD. Everyone loved their money more than a single cop with a stick up his ass about accountability and regulations. It wasn’t difficult for Flass to procure cops that would preach the gospel his way when the time came to kill Jim Gordon. Jim would follow up a lead that Flass fed him anonymously, and when he went to investigate he would end up in a fatal gun fight with the potential witness. Said witness would have to die too, but at least first responders and forensics would report it the way Flass told them to say it happened. Jim would come to the appointed meeting place and be faced with Flass, Anders and Lupin. He would be tortured a little and then ended, ergo Flass’ vengeance would be complete, and the city was rid of goody-two-shoes Jim Gordon.  That was the plan, but the reality of it was that Jim fought like a madman from the jump. There was gunfire, Lupin was killed accidentally by Flass, and Anders seriously injured in hand to hand by Jim. Flass even took a few hits as he wrestled Jim into a choke hold and squeezed until Jim’s face was turning purple and he was about to lose consciousness. Flass dropped him to the floor at that point and kicked him in the ribs repeatedly until the snap of rib bones filled the air. “You worthless piece of shit!” Flass berated as he reached down to unfasten his pants.

 

“What are you doing Flass?” Anders asked.

 

“Shut the fuck up!” Flass screamed at him before turning his attention back to Jim gasping on the floor. “I’m going to make little Jimmy boy here do what he was made for; sucking my cock!” Flass had made a promise to Jim and he was not about to kill the man until he had made good on it. Flass grabbed Jim by the longer hairs upon his head and hauled him off the floor and twisted until Jim was on his knees. “Open up bitch!” He ordered forcing Jim’s face towards his half hard cock. “Eat your last meal.” Flass enjoyed the sounds of Jim gagging and his thrashing around for breath as his mouth and throat were filled by Flass’ dick. “Get to sucking Jimmy, just like you like too.”

 

Jim took a deep, grounding breath through his nose and did the only thing he could think of; he bit down and didn’t let up. Flass began screaming striking Jim in the head as Jim grabbed Flass around the pelvis. Still his teeth came closer together as blood filled his mouth. Flass flailed and he was reaching for his gun when Anders moved and grabbed Jim to pull him away. He shouted, ‘Let go!’ to Jim only intensified his jaw pressure as blood poured down the front of his chin onto his chest. Finally, Jim released his bite, when the flesh tore away. Flass fell backwards screaming, blood gushing between his legs, while Anders grabbed his cell phone and called for an ambulance. Jim extracted the portion of Flass’ penis from his throat and mouth, dropping it onto the floor, before he vomited up the contents of his stomach. He snagged his gun off the floor and raised it, pointing it at Anders and telling him to move closer to Flass. Anders obeyed, and Jim kept his gun on them until the first responders arrived. Luckily for Jim they were not on Flass’ payroll.

 

Harvey heard the officer down code on the police ban he listened to at the office and jumped up at the reciting of the location. It was an apartment tenement in the Narrows and Harvey knew it like the back of his hand, having played there as a child. He needed to get a move on if he were going to beat the other news outlets there. His heart hammering as he thought of Jim and prayed it wasn’t him. In the back of his mind there was the niggling feeling that it could be, but he didn’t want to surrender to paranoid conjecture just yet. He hadn’t spoken to Jim in nearly two months and he longed to see him again, yet not in this situation.

 

When Harvey arrived at the call location there were already ambulance, coroner and unmarked vehicles there among the cruisers. The area had been cordoned off and there were two news trucks and Harvey cursed. He was just questioning a uniform on what had occurred and heard that one was dead, and two injured, when he looked over the man’s shoulder and saw a familiar stance, with blond hair. It was Jim, Harvey was convinced of it. He watched as Jim was questioned by a police captain, detective and the commissioner, and when he turned around to motion to the ambulance Harvey’s heart seized in his chest. Jim was covered in blood all down the front of his shirt and suit lapels. There was blood under his chin and Harvey felt himself get a little woozy at the sight; not that he was made queasy by the sight of blood, but that he was for the sight of Jim with blood on him. The ambulance pulled away from the scene, sirens blaring, and Harvey supposed he would have to go to Gotham General at some point to check on the detective’s condition.

 

Jim was on his way to a second ambulance when Harvey called out to him. Jim stopped in his stride, spotted Harvey and headed directly for him, pushing a uniformed cop out of his way to get to him. “Jim, my god. What happened, Junior?”

 

Jim huffed out a laugh, relieved to hear the endearment and Harvey’s hand immediately went from his shoulder to cup a cheek in his palm. Jim grabbed on to the forearm with his hand. “I’m okay. Flass attacked me with Anders and Lupin.”

 

“Is he dead?”

 

Jim shook his head. “Lupin is, Anders is injured, Flass shot him in the fray and Flass? I put him in the hospital.”

 

Harvey motioned to Jim’s shirt front with the opposite hand. “What’s all this?”

 

“Flass.” Jim informed gaze misting.

 

Harvey nodded and issued a soft, “C’m ‘ere,” Before pulling Jim into his embrace. Jim hugged him tightly and the older man could feel Jim’s body trembling from the adrenaline and fear. “It’s okay Jim. We’ll work it out so that they believe you.”

 

“They already do.” Jim assured, voice soft in Harvey’s ear. “That’s not why I’m afraid.”

 

“What is it then?”

 

“I miss you.” Upon hearing this Harvey held Jim tighter.

 

“Then come back to me. I was waiting for you to stop hating me.”

 

Jim sniffed and withdrew from the hug so that he could face Harvey. “I never hated you, I was angry yes; but I never once hated you. I just,” Jim faltered and shook his head helplessly. “I have to go get checked out by the paramedics.”

 

“Then more questioning I presume?” Jim nodded. “Call me when you’re done. I’ll come over and we can talk, or not. Whatever it is you want to do, all right?” Jim nodded in acceptance and the two went their separate ways; this time not alone for the next two months.

 

While he waited for Jim to be finished at headquarters with the debriefing, Harvey made his rounds to gather what information he could about the shooting. What he discovered were some rumors, but they at least were consistent with everyone he talked to about them. He learned just what the nature of Flass’ injuries were and felt his chest tighten at realizing how they were afflicted. Jim had been violated and Harvey wanted to crucify the man who was responsible. However, Jim had taken care of the worst of the punishments in Harvey’s opinion. Flass was in surgery with a urologist and expected to make a full recovery even being left without his penis. By the time Jim texted that he was on his way home, Harvey was on pins and needles wanting to meet him there. He left work with the story half written and met Jim in the hall way of his apartment floor. Jim was wearing a white Henley with his suit slacks and looked weary and worse for wear. They hugged before the door and then Jim let them inside.

 

“I could use a drink.” Jim stated as he put his bade on the counter with his mail. Harvey moved immediately to Jim’s butcher table that served as a mini bar and poured them both some whiskey. He handed Jim the fuller glass and they toasted one another drinking a bit down before speaking once more.  “It was self-defense with Anders, internal affairs are going to investigate Flass for Lupin’s death.” Jim moved to sit down upon the couch and Harvey followed.  “Both Anders and Flass at least have to face attempted murder charges.” Jim smiled slightly. “I think I.A. and the Captain are finally ready to listen to me.”

 

“That’s great Junior, about that,” Harvey paused and downed the rest of his whiskey before setting the glass upon the coffee table and meeting Jim’s gaze. “I found out some interesting facts about Flass’ injuries tonight. They say that his dick was bitten off three quarters of the way.” Harvey ran a hand back through his thick, red, hair. “You wouldn’t happen to know how that came about, would you?”

 

Jim shuddered subconsciously at the question and took a breath before answering, “It was self-defense. He forced, and I fought back, it’s that simple.”

 

Harvey reached out and touched Jim’s cheek once more and Jim pressed into the palm. “It doesn’t sound simple.” Jim shrugged and Harvey with drew his hand slinging the arm around Jim’s shoulders. Jim settled in against his side and Harvey tilted his head to place it against Jim’s. “If it starts to get complex? You know I’ll listen without judgement.”

 

“I appreciate that.” Jim stated softly. “Why did you do it? Talk to them instead of me?”

 

Harvey closed his eyes and pulled Jim tighter against him. “Because I’m stupid. I had talked to you and there was so much you left unsaid. I could see it in your eyes, but the words never came out. I needed the information, so I did what I always do, I dug.” Harvey opened his eyes and turned his face so that he could kiss Jim’s temple. “I’m sorry.”

 

Jim pushed back against Harvey and forgave him with an affectionate, “It’s okay.” They sat in silence for a few minutes and Jim asked, “Did Barbara tell you about the baby?”

 

“Yeah buddy; she did.”

 

Jim tensed a little. “Did she tell you her ‘ _theory’_ about me?”

 

“She didn’t say a word about theories.”

 

“She wouldn’t have worded it exactly like that. She would have just out right said what she believes.”

 

Harvey tightened his embrace. “It doesn’t matter what she said Jim. Because whatever the truth is? You’ll tell me in your own time, or you won’t. Either way, it’s not going to change how I feel about you. I’ll love you just the same.” Jim relaxed and turned a little, placing an arm across Harvey’s midsection. Harvey kissed his forehead this time.

 

“I can’t get the taste of blood out of my mouth, or his scent.” Jim stated after a long pause. Harvey reached forward for Jim’s tumbler and Jim stopped him. “No. That won’t help. Nothing has. Not brushing my teeth, not gargling Listerine, not gum; nothing.” Jim slowly raised his head and looked at Harvey. “There is something I’d like to try though.”

 

Harvey immediately turned to Jim with a reassuring smile and said, “What is it? I’ll help anyway I can.”

 

“Good.” Jim stated sliding his opposite hand up Harvey’s cheek to the back of his neck. He titled Harvey’s head forward and his mouth captured Harvey’s in a gentle, impassioned, kiss. Harvey closed his eyes and went with the moment tasting whiskey and toothpaste upon Jim’s tongue. He moved his other arm to embrace Jim fully and moaned a little in the kiss. He never thought he would be able to be here with Jim like this, and now that he was he accepted that there would be no going backward. Their relationship had up ended to this and he hoped that Jim would accept it as their lives now. Whatever it meant for them that they would face it together.

 

Jim continued the kiss moaning a little at Harvey’s giving response. He moved still closer and as the kiss evolved he moved up to straddle the older male’s lap. “So good.” He moaned in praise. “You taste so damned good.”  Harvey grunted in appreciation and devoured Jim’s mouth further, his hands running over his back and down towards his ass. Their heated exchange lasted several minutes and finally when their kisses broke they were both panting, Jim’s forehead pushed against Harvey’s and Jim moving a little in his lap, grinding down upon him. “Is this okay?” He asked, fingers of his left hand wrapped in the long hairs covering Harvey’s neck.

 

“Which part?” Teased Harvey with a light laugh.

 

“All of it. Any of it.” Jim prompted. “Am I over stepping any boundaries I should know about?”

 

“Jim,” Harvey reasoned reaching up to take Jim’s face in his hands. He pushed Jim gently back enough so that they could make eye contact. “I’ve been with men before, my only question is, have you?” Jim nodded, one hand rubbing Harvey’s chest wantonly while the other remained clenched in his hair. “All right then; no need to take it slow.” Harvey leaned in to kiss Jim once more, but Jim pushed upon his chest stopping him.

 

“Maybe I want to go _a little_ slow tonight.  My ribs are broken, wrapped tight and I’m on some pain killers so, I get dizzy pretty easily.”

 

Harvey nodded. “I’ll be careful then. We can handle this.” As their lips touched Jim sighed in agreement.

 

Their plans for slow and steady never came to fruition and Jim’s impatient desire ramped up the more he kissed Harvey and touched him. They abandoned the living room to take their exploration to the bedroom. Once there Jim set about stripping Harvey to the waist and began mapping out the older male’s body with his mouth and hands. It was better than he had fantasized, Harvey’s responses both sensual and encouraging. Before long Jim was completely naked and Harvey had to stop their caressing long enough to visually take Jim in.

 

“You’re so beautiful.” He whispered reverently sending a blush creeping down from Jim’s face to his chest and shoulders.

 

Jim reached for him with outstretched arms. “Let me see you now.” Harvey finished disrobing, a little hesitant to drop his boxers but when he did Jim’s eyes darkened with lust. “You’re huge.” He praised in observation. It was Harvey’s turn to blush as he put a knee on the bed to lay down over Jim’s athletic body.

 

“Is that necessarily a bad thing?” Harvey inquired with sincere anxiousness.

 

Much to his relief Jim shook his head. “I like a big man.” Jim revealed leaning up to kiss Harvey senseless. Harvey’s insecurities immediately evaporated, and he kissed Jim with renewed purpose. It wasn’t long before he was rolling a condom down upon his cock and sliding into his new home within Jim’s body. It was then that Jim proved just how much he enjoyed ‘big men’. Harvey had never felt so accepted and worshiped before this moment with Jim. The feeling was completely heady and suckled bruises upon Jim’s long throat and rested his weight completely upon him. Jim clung and squirmed in response, begging and pleading with Harvey to fuck him blind. Harvey did everything in his power to comply and hours later when they were in a sweaty heap he lay on his back, pulling Jim against him and wondered why it had taken them so long to arrive here.

 

“How long have you waited to do _that_?” Harvey teased kissing Jim’s forehead.

 

Jim purred and ran a hand up Harvey’s abdomen to his breastplate. “Since the moment I saw you in the diner.” Jim admitted hesitantly.

 

“That long huh?” Jim nodded.

 

“What about you?”

 

“The same moment you did.”  Jim laughed, and Harvey tightened his embrace. “That’s going to make a hell of a ‘when did you know’ story, Jim.”

 

Jim sighed contentedly and raised his head to kiss Harvey. Before their lips brushed he said, “I can’t wait to read it in the Chronicle.”


End file.
